


Drabbles Project

by TheArtLord



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtLord/pseuds/TheArtLord
Summary: This is a little project I'm working on to write small drabbles of each of my OCs for the rest of the school year to both develop characters more and to also make school a little less hellish.





	1. Killem N.

You were a young boy.

    You can’t recall how young, exactly, but you do know that you couldn’t have lasted nearly as long as a decade. No, you were too young when it happened. Now, you’re left to blindly wander the streets of your hometown, over and over. You pass by the homeless men on the streets and feel a soft pang of empathy in your heart, because for some reason you know how it feels. But… you can’t register the feeling in your mind. You should probably just keep moving, on and on, for what is an eternity to your seemingly infinite lifespan. Sometimes, you wish you could “stop to smell the roses”, as they say. Maybe to even feel something for a while. All you can remember ever feeling is pain. Pain in your head and between your eyes, bleeding pain in your mouth and the sharp pain lacing through every limb on your body. Deep, blinding pain in your hollow gut. Burning, fiery pain in your soft child’s flesh from the rough sidewalk of the alleyway where he pushed you and all you could see was the glint of light on the thing in his hand and-

    Stop. You are thinking far too much for a little boy like you, especially one without emotions and feelings, like you.  
     
    Remember to forget again.

    You cannot let those images- are they even real?- haunt your mind the way you haunt the streets. It is hard, though. It’s so hard to forget the fears and the pain and the betrayal with the way you had faced them so long ago.

    You wish he would’ve stopped, stopped holding that thing that was all too sharp and cold against your stomach, and instead have hugged you and told you he missed you and how he would never leave you alone ever again LIKE HE SHOULD HAVE.

    You would miss him but you know he doesn’t miss you. You would love him but you know he doesn’t love you. You would see him but you know he doesn’t see you and it is all his fault because HE MADE YOU THIS WAY.

    He made you heartless and cold and so old despite your ageless child’s body that you aren’t even sure is yours anymore because it seems so alien to you. He made your body foreign to its brain because he wouldn’t put it down after you fell and scraped your cheeks and hands and he didn’t help you when you cried out for him to help you because you thought he was still your big brother and not a nightmare of reality. He made you this way when he scooped away your insides with his hands to show his friends; he did this to you while you were suffocating on your own blood and he didn’t help like your big brother would, but instead laughed and put your guts back inside but in the wrong places so that you couldn’t breathe anymore. He told you you were better off like this because now people would actually acknowledge that you actually existed and you weren’t some lost soul trying to play with the normal kids even when they couldn’t see you and all he did was laugh when you tried to make your big brother come back and save you from the monster that took his skin.

    All he ever did was laugh and now he haunts you the way you haunt the streets of your home.


	2. Deiryn P.

You are a young girl who likes to sew.

    You make and fix clothes, stuffed creatures, and just about anything that involves a needle and thread. Sewing machines are absolutely repulsive to you. Everyone will tell you that they make the job faster and easier, but they wouldn’t know. They wouldn’t know of your love to press a needle between your fingers and delicately pull the thread through the eye. They wouldn’t know of your desires to create the most beautiful things using your bare hands.

    They wouldn’t know about your hands.

    They give you quite the advantage, really. It is so useful to have them. You could even say they’re handy.

    HEE HEE HEE

    You can’t help but giggle softly at your own jokes. You’ve always been a little punny, even if the actual pun is total crap. You just enjoy amusement, is all. 

    You shake your head slowly, pulling yourself out of your thoughts in order to chance a look out the large window in the front of your mother’s shop. It’s getting quite dark, from what you can see of the sky behind the looming buildings that sit right across the street. Perhaps you should begin cleaning up, then. Mom doesn’t like the shop being open at night. It makes her nervous, maybe a tad unsettled. You almost don’t mind, though. She has a good enough reason for it, after all.

    You begin to pack up your supplies with two hands, the rest staying at your sides for now. You’ll have to close the curtains on the window, soon. You don’t need another accident.

    You carefully close the blinds and pull the curtains with both hands, sighing softly. Some people can be so touchy about things that aren’t even their business. You hate it, really. You just wish you didn’t have to hide them in front of normal people. It’s not like you plan on doing anything besides minding your own business, damn it.  
      
    You sure wish everyone else would.

    But, that’s nothing you can control. Yet, anyway. You’ve been practicing and soon, maybe, you could apply your studies to reality.

    Soon, soon, soon, you will say in sing-song. Soon, people will stop bugging you and you can do what you please, whenever you want to. Just because Mom thinks it should be hidden, doesn’t mean you do. Screw her ideals, anyway. She disgusts you. That woman is absolutely repulsive. At least your sister is tolerable. Even good company, sometimes.

    You stretch your all-too-many limbs with a loud yawn, leaning back ever so slightly. You should probably get to bed- Mom wouldn’t want to wait for very much longer. Especially not for you, if her attitude with you lately     says anything. She just needs to grow up and stop being so childish. Maybe even get the hell away from her CRAZY LOVER. 

    It’s not your business, though. You’ll just have to show her how much better you can be in comparison. You will never get involved in the shit she does.

    You will use your advantages for benefit, not to poison your life like she has. She is a madwoman.

    You are just a daughter who likes to sew, with a mother who doesn’t love you.


	3. Traene O.

You were a boy.

    A boy of the fae, to be exact- BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT, IS IT? IT’S JUST ANOTHER MISERABLE SPECIES DRAGGED AND WADING IN THE THROWS OF TIME AND INEVITABLE DEATH-

    All of your memories are sharp and clear in your mind. You are analytical and all-seeing, a young man of immense knowledge, if you will.

    You were young, but not too young. Just into your teen years, actually, prepared to grow and mature the way any good boy like you would. But, well,- YOU’RE NO GOOD- You were prevented from doing so far too soon for you to be anywhere near comfortable nor satisfied with thinking over it.  
     
    No, no. It bothers you deeply; and the feeling is far too intense for you to cope with.

    AT LEAST IT WOULD BE IF YOU WEREN’T- the way you were. Some suggested you to be blank and emotionless, an obnoxious bore with a clever mouth when provoked. But, that’s not entirely true. You weren’t emotionless so much as placid and too strict with self-control. You weren’t boring so much as quiet and timid, too afraid to utter that of a syllable in the chance it was misconstrued completely. 

    Oh, your brother just loved your “good behavior”, though you just felt you were too cautious, at most. He only found satisfaction in the fact that you couldn’t do a thing to bother him if you wished to.

    Whatever, though. He was never a significant player in the games of life anyway. You’re just honestly shocked he’s still alive and well, what with him and his murderous book club of so-called “friends”. At least he hadn’t vandalized you and removed you of your highest rights to simply live, like that other kid had done to his younger sibling.

    You scoffed at the thought of it and had gagged at the scene when you had first come upon it, deeply and utterly disgusted by just how much the poor boy had endured. He didn’t even die very fast, sadly, 

    -DESPITE BEING TURNED INSIDE-OUT IN A GLORIOUS DISPLAY OF BRUTALITY AND COLD-BLOODED GENIUS PORTRAYED ON THE INNOCENT-

    You could say you’ve joined him, technically, but you almost feel guilty about associating yourself with him in that way. You’ve never had the ch- PRIVILEGE TO ENDURE THE SEEPING, SHARP WAVES OF DELICIOUS PAIN- the ways that he had. All you ever got was a small, short blip of pain like an explosive migraine before you were fine and dandy and- DEAD- again. Blasphemous, really. It wasn’t even on purpose, either. Pathetic way to go, you say.

    You had just gotten in the way at the wrong place and the wrong time and blah blah blah. You were simply caught in the crosshairs between the deadly aim of an assassin and a young girl, the was-meant-to-be-victim, with too many secrets to even try to keep.

    That won’t be the last time you “get in the way”, though. You have plans and you will act on them soon enough.

    -AND YOU JUST CAN’T WAIT TO TASTE THE RESULTS-


	4. Intrae H.

You are an adult male.

    You are also human, but you like to think of yourself as special, in your somewhat unique ways. You speak and write rather formally, in your fluent knowledge of five or so languages. You take pleasure in moving your lips and tongue in every way but those of lewd behavior. But, none of these characteristics of yours are what make you special.

    You are an herbal witch, a close-to-monomaniac of green magicks. You know you are a male, but the term “wizard” looks so silly to you. Witches, on the other hand, are deserving of utmost respect.

    Which, of course, is not what you receive from peers. To them, you are an overactive gardener, a plant-obsessed freakazoid- Er, abnormality. You really need to stop using those immature terms deeply embedded in the colorful vocabulary of your closest partner, or “best friend”, as it is commonly dubbed.

    You do not think you are much of a “freakazoid” either, as she calls it. If anything, she is far more abnormal than you are. Psh, to even call her “abnormal” is a huge understatement. She has a rather odd amount of body parts, for one. Not to mention the insane genetics she contains.

    You are used to it, though. A couple of extra arms is not that big of a deal, and many people wear frightening contacts all of the time, anyway. She just happens to be a walking halloween costume, at best. You would not say that to her face, though.

    Gods, she would be furious to hear such a thing cross your lips.

    But, anyway. She is not you- she can stay in her own story for now. You are the star of the show now.

    Though. For a star, you sure are boring. You do not know anyone who watches other people picking and mixing herbs and remedies on television for entertainment.

    You sigh softly, the water vapor from your breath collecting on the window in a small fog. You watch it fade for a moment, before returning to your work, shaking your head irritably. It is much too cold, now, and your lovely gallery of nature will suffer greatly if you do not change something up, soon. You cannot really help the weather, though. That is not your talent- and the seasons are not to be messed with regardless. Besides, it is only the usual winter freeze. You already knew the snow and ice would hurt your gallery, you just have yet to do much. It is only the first snow, anyway. Nothing too bad.

    You hum quiet phrases, brushing your fingers over the leaves and stems of your resources, feeling a soft heat surge through your fingertips and into the air around you, the pink in your cheeks and the chill in your joints fading quickly. 

    You are not very interesting, but you knew that. You just have to cut off the action for now. But, you will be quite the specimen soon. You are young and you have potential, you just need to be patient for a little while longer.

    You will be back in due time.

    Ta Ta For Now.


	5. Enkedu Z.

You are a girl.

    But you’re not just any girl, no. You’re special.

    He told you so.

    You aren’t human, like many others are. But, then again, neither is he. You think it’s the perfect match.

    You’re more feline than anything, but you do have an odd humanoid build, kind of like a werewolf, maybe. A werewolf with four wings and a mermaid boyfriend, that is.

    The thought makes you giggle, though it doesn’t sound jingly and sweet as expected. No, your laughter is raspy and strained, fighting to push past the stiff, tight collar around your neck. That accessory doesn’t make you a pet, though. He just likes it, so you wear it.

    You’ve been told by a couple of his friends- er, well, you’ve overheard some private conversations, that is- that you have a problem. Or, well, problems.

    They say you’re too happy, too stupid. Too caught up and invested in the idea of love that you willingly undergo the process of being his slave every day, because you so badly wanted- needed- his attention and praise, even after he took you from everyone you thought you had ever cared for. 

    But it’s not true, and you aren’t a slave. You’re a pretty girl with a pretty boy and a happy life. And, okay, yeah, maybe you’re a little young, but that doesn’t mean anything! True love is true love, dang it.

    And it certainly is not “Stack-home” syndrome, like they say so often. That’s so stupid, anyway. Who even came up with that? It’s the dumbest name you’ve ever even heard, like, JEEZ.

    But, anyway. That’s besides the point. You can love whoever you want to, and those meany-faces can’t do anything about it!

    You heave a heavy sigh, shaking your head and folding your ears back delicately. You have to stop being so aggressive! He said they’re good people, anyway, and you don’t want to upset him by being a meany-face yourself.

    You stretch the best you can, the wraps around your wings making it a little difficult to do. But you manage. It’s not that bad. He says it’s for your safety, after all.

    And you trust him.

    Speaking of him, you can hear the creaking of the barred door as it slowly swings open, and soon enough your favorite fishy boy is walking in with some treats for you to munch on later when he’s gone.

    “Such a good girl,” he purrs, dark eyes glittering in the dim light and wow doesn’t he just look absolutely magical?

    You purr right back, bracing a clawed hand on his arm for support as you lean in to nuzzle his cheek.

    “I missed you, D-”

    “Ah ah ah, you know better than to say my name. And just when I had thought you were a good little girl, too-”

    “But I am! I am! I’ve been super duper good for you!”  
      
    “Oh? Have you, now?”

    “Yes! Isn’t that why you brought me treats?”

    “Perhaps.”

    You grin and click your tongue happily, always pleased to hear a confirmation.

    You slowly move forward, pressing your face and hands against his chest, purring softly.

    “I love you…”

    “I know,” he hums, nodding slowly and picking at your collar. He loosens it ever so slightly, tired of hearing every noise out of your mouth sound like a muffled garbage disposal. He doesn’t really like to feel bad about himself. Especially not when it came to you. 

    You smile, eyes closed and ears perked up so he knows just how happy he makes you.

    He knows, though. He already did. 

    You know he knows when he pressed a soft kiss between your furry little ears and pulls away, his sharklike teeth gleaming brightly when he smiles.

    You know he knows when he leaves and closes the door behind him, leaving the light on for you so you won’t get scared.

    You know he knows that you love him.

    You’re just waiting for him to say it back.


	6. Knixii Y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A liiittle graphic, but there really isn't much detail. A little foul language, too. But nothing bad.

You are a female.

    Not too young, either. You’re 17 now, but you’ll be turning 18 in just a few months now. 

    That’s not very significant, though, seeing as your age doesn’t matter much here.  
     
    You and your mother live deep in the dark wilderness, isolated from most civilization.

    You do know where the towns are, though. You aren’t stupid. She showed you where to get food from long ago, after all.

    You two live a fairly normal life, you think. Your internet friends don’t really agree, but it’s not as though their opinions matter much. It can get really exciting every once in a while, especially when it’s time to go hunt, but you really don’t think you do much that’s very different from others. Mother always made sure you knew what you two did was perfectly normal.

    Your food choice, that is.

    But, it isn’t as bad as it sounds! At least you’re not going around eating trash like greasy burgers and shit for dinner every night like other humans do.

    You’re eating real meat.

Well, you will be, once you finish tonight’s hunt, that is.

    You’ve spent the last hour or so sitting in a tree, hidden among its leaves and branches. The sky had darkened completely only around twenty minutes ago, when the sun had set behind the mountain peaks in the distance. This little village had put their torches up for the night, but it’s not enough light to bother you. 

    As long as you don’t get caught, you’re fine.

    Finally, you can see someone crawling out into the darkness towards the treeline, too curious for their own good. You just love the curious ones. They seem to taste better than the ones you have to track down.

    The figure below you continues further, too intrigued by the depths of the woods to bother with caution. Which happens to be perfect for you.

    You slowly begin your descent, climbing down in complete silence, watching as your prey moves even further into your homeland. It really should be more careful. Hasn’t it heard of the monsters that creep in the dark?  
     
    You release a soft hum from your lips, the vibrations buzzing in your throat wonderfully. It seems to notice the sound, its head flicking up to face your general area. It’s come far enough. No need to hide any longer.

    You shift so that it can see your eyes and fangs gleam in the soft light of the moon, just above and too close for comfort. Your lips curl into a wicked grin, finding its expression of horror to be absolutely priceless.

    It attempts to take advantage of your moment of amusement , shooting towards the village as fast as its little feet can carry it.

    How cute! The poor thing thinks it can get away.

    You drop from the tree with a heavy thud, almost immediately going after it once you hit solid ground. It’s not expecting you to be able to catch up so quickly- you’re human too, after all-, but it couldn’t be less wrong. You’ve trained for this all your life. You know what you’re doing.

    And God, isn’t it just exhilarating?

    It’s only seconds of silent, fast-paced running before you’ve got it on the ground, your pointed nails digging into gentle curves of flesh. Oh, this one is going to be so good.

    You laugh under your breath, unable to help yourself as you shove its face into the rocks and dirt underneath you for good measure. It grunts and whines pitifully in response, its little chest heaving as it struggles to calm. Poor thing is probably racing with adrenaline now. You’d be sympathetic and let it go for a little chase, but you’ve grown rather hungry out here. 

    Soon enough, you’re ducking down towards it’s vulnerable throat, angling your head carefully so you don’t screw up and snap a saber. The pathetic creature beneath you sobs and screams pitifully, but you don’t mind it much. Nobody’s going to find it without being too late, and they hardly come out here anyway. They have good reason not to. 

    You can’t help but wonder how much it hurts for prey. Your fangs are rather large, and having them slip into such a slim, beautiful neck probably feels like hell. You always try to finish it off faster when you think about this, not really wanting them to suffer so much as be an easy meal for you to enjoy. You’re hungry, not heartless.

~Time Skip.~ 

    By the time you get home with dinner, your mother has already gotten herself shaken up and frustrated. She’s not really scared of you getting hurt, she just doesn’t want to get caught. She has a good reputation amongst the villagers- it would be sad should they put two and two together. 

    You took too long! She’ll hiss at you, towering over you in a stance that’s supposed to be intimidating. But she’s managed to raise you without fear of people.

    You need to stop playing with your food! It is such a mess! How do you expect to eat something so dirty?

    Ugggghhhhh. She’s always nagging you for this shit. It’s not like you’re going to treat it with a nice bath first! How ridiculous.

    You roll your eyes and ignore her slight tantrum, setting your food down on the table and deciding to just eat later when she finished with her business. It kind of sucks, though. She never leaves you any of the good stuff. 

    Yep, this is life. Going out, getting food, coming home and getting yelled at by your mom. Psh, you can’t be anything BUT normal.


	7. Paehdi J.

You… Girl… 

    Uuuunnngghhhh..

    You slowly move into a more comfortable position, bending your legs and dropping your head back against the wall, exhausted. Your eyes close and you tip right back forward to rest your forehead against your knees, feeling strands of hair tickle your ears and your cheeks. Urgh. It always takes too long to properly move it away, and it usually comes right back down to bother you anyways.

    You can’t move very well, and it’s hard to concentrate, often. Your mind is fuzzy and full of static, except for the times when everything is going too fast and your mind breaks again and you stop having control over anything. You don’t really remember it, but you were different before, you believe. T and P did something when they “found” you when you were little- like, five, maybe… But that sounds kind of wrong. You’re not that old. But you don’t know. It just hurts to dwell on, and you don’t really like it.

    Ugh, are you drooling again? This happens every time you try and ponder over things. How stupid. Besides, T hates it when you do this. He even lets H hurt you when you do. 

    H is too scary to look at, you think.

    You turn your head in slow, jerky movements, wiping your cheek on your skirt the best you can. You can’t really use your arms- they’re too busy being chained to the floor. It really irritates him when you try to flail and fight back, so he made sure you didn’t have the option to anymore.

    You let out a low groan, a bit louder than you meant to. Your insides feel empty and it has been far too long since they last visited you- even if you really, really hate them.

    You think they hate you too, though.

    Your head whips up way too fast when you hear the creaking of your door as it opens, causing your vision to swim and your mind to become victim to unrelenting aches. You whine loudly about it, unable to communicate the problem any differently. It’s P- you can’t say you’re not a little unsettled. She likes to make you squirm.

    You watch as she moves through a blurry film, your eyes already starting to water. She hurts you a little every time she visits, and you’re not exactly prepared. It’s kind of hard to be when you can’t do anything by yourself very successfully.

    You moan and gurgle and try to roll away as she creeps closer, though you certainly don’t get very far, seeing as she has her fingers wrapped around your bare throat and she’s tipping your chin up, making you a little too powerless for your comfort. Then again, you’re always uncomfortable.

    She’s never really been kind.

    You bare small, chipped fangs at her, jaw clenched and lips curled sloppily.

    It does nothing but entertain her.

    You wheeze and cough in attempt to speak, unable to address her- or anything, for that matter. You weakly kick at her leg with your foot, growling low and kind of pathetically. She just groans and throws you back against the wall, rolling her eyes.

    You pant heavily, squirming as you maneuver yourself into less of a painful position. P just scoffs and tosses grains of food down at you, letting it scatter across the ground just out of your reach.

    “Aaa.. as- ssstoo-”

    “Oh fuck off, ya damned maggot.”

    She decides to leave, now, probably to send T after you so he can play his dirty little games again. He likes it- loves it, even- until you protest and make dumb noises and spit on him, but it doesn’t stop him, really. He says it makes you a little useful, for once, but you think you’d be more “useful” free and not chained to the floor like some kind of prisoner.

    Hah.

    You’d like to see the day that that happens.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcome


End file.
